


We Go Cruising, Entertain Ourselves

by MeganWrites



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Private Driver
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:48:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23437192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeganWrites/pseuds/MeganWrites
Summary: Ian Gallagher is one of six grandchildren to inherit the Gallagher Hotel chain.Mickey Milkovich reluctantly becomes his private driver.[reposting of an old work]
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 24
Kudos: 159





	We Go Cruising, Entertain Ourselves

**Author's Note:**

> Reposting cause y'know. Why not? Originally posted Sept 2014.
> 
> Also, I have no clue if this is how private drivers work and I suspect their generally employed directly but whatever. It's my story so go with it.

Rick Johnson is a fucking idiot.

Mickey’s never been one to follow the rule book, especially when it comes to this useless job that he hates, but Rick took it to another level when he decided to post a video of himself smoking a bong in his assigned fleet car was a good idea.

Rick was fired – no shock there – and Mickey is being forced to ‘step up’ and temporarily become a driver once again until a replacement can be found.

Mickey doesn’t give a shit about this job, but he had just moved up in the company, finally getting an office job and no longer needing to deal with the rich assholes who can afford a driver. It’s fucking irritating.

Fucking Rick Johnson being a fucking idiot.

-

Mickey pulls up in front of a glitzy five-star hotel. He’s parked terribly but he’s too irked to care about how the company is portrayed. The biggest downside to taking over for Rick is that he now is the exclusive driver for one client, which means the client is rich enough to have a private driver constantly booked. This also means that the guy is probably a jackass.

A tall man with slicked-back ginger hair steps out of the hotel. He’s lean and muscular, filling out a navy blue business suit with his broad shoulders and carrying a small briefcase that bounces against his leg as he makes his way down the steps from the door. He kind of looks like he could be a model, though it’s clear from his attire that is not his line of work. Mickey tilts his head and allows himself to admire his long limbs, angular face, and large hands. The man is talking on his phone, he half-smiles at something and ducks his head to hide it. Mickey sucks on his lower lip as he watches – yeah, the guy is fucking cute.

The man says goodbye and walks right up to Mickey’s car, opening the door and sliding into the back seat. Mickey curses inwardly, pretending that he didn’t just spend the last five minutes checking out his new client.

The man looks up and furrows his brow at Mickey, “You’re not Rick?”

“Keen eye,” Mickey mutters under his breath, then says, “He’s no longer with the company,” and starts the engine. “Where to?”

“The Gage, please.” The man is still watching Mickey with a frown and tilting his head like he’s trying to assess Mickey.

“I suppose you’re going to be my new driver now.” The man states instead of asking, it seems like he’s gone through a few different drivers at this point and is accustomed to the sudden change. “What’s your name?”

Mickey glances back and sees that the man is leaned a bit forward. He’s no longer frowning, instead, he looks comically hopeful, complete with the wide green eyes that make him look ten years younger. Mickey wants to stay quiet, he’s not here to make friends, but that stupid look is impossible to ignore.

“Mickey,” he grunts and tears his eyes away from the man’s face.

“Ian Gallagher.”

Mickey suppresses the urge to flip around in his seat, “Gallagher? Like Gallagher Hotels where I just picked you up? That Gallagher?”

Ian shrugs and scratches the back of his neck with a sheepish smile, “Yeah, that Gallagher.”

Gallagher Hotels is one of the biggest luxury hotel chains in North America. It was started by some old lady – Pat or Peg or Pam, something with a P – in the 1960s and carried on from there. The old lady died a few years back and divide the shares in the company between her six grandchildren, all brothers and sisters, to run the empire. It caused a huge scandal and tons of court cases from her actual children, arguing that they should have been the rightful inheritors. The scandal was so publicized that it end up outshining the rumors about the Hotel chain being built on drug money.

Mickey does some quick math, putting it all together, and realizes that Ian must be one of the six grandchildren, which also means he’s not just a rich asshole – he’s a fucking ludicrously rich asshole.

Great.

-

Mickey pulls up to the Gallagher hotel the next day and Ian is already rushing down the stairs by the time he’s put the car into park. He’s carrying the same small briefcase, has the same slicked-back hair, and the same type of well-tailored suit except that today it’s an all-black look. Ian opens the door and slips into the back seat, a big smile on his face as he settles into the seat and smiles at Mickey.

“Hello, how are you today, Mickey?”

Rich people try to do this sometimes. They put on a fake smile and pretend they give a shit about the help – it makes them feel good. Mickey’s seen it a hundred times before and it’s just as irritating this time as it’s always been. Mickey grimaces and looks away from Ian, “Where to Mr. Gallagher?”

Ian’s smile falters slightly, “You can call me Ian.”

“Okay – where to, _Ian_?” Mickey grumbles, resisting the urge to flip Ian off.

Ian lets out a long and exasperated sigh and rests back against the seat, “Alright then, City Hall.”

Mickey looks over his shoulder, checking the traffic, puts the car into drive, signals and pulls out onto the road. It’s noon so of course it’s fucking busy and Mickey can feel whatever shreds of a good mood he had quickly disappearing.

“Are you from Chicago?”

Mickey glances at the rear-view mirror, meeting Ian’s gaze and those stupid wide, green eyes hoping for some answers. He’s like a fucking puppy.

“Yes,” Mickey answers sharply.

“Any brothers? Sisters?”

Mickey narrows his eyes and grunts, "Four brothers, one sister."

Ian nods and smiles kindly, "Six is a good number. So do you like your job?"

"Not right now," Mickey grumbles quietly, glancing back to see Ian's smile has faded and he's sitting back again. Mickey must have spoken louder than he meant, and the pout on Ian's lips is almost enough to make Mickey feel bad.

Ian looks down and taps his fingers on the leather of the seat. "Sorry, just thought I would pass some time.”

Mickey huffs and makes the mistake of looking into the rear-view mirror again. Fucking Ian Gallagher must be the master of the guilt trip because Mickey can't imagine feeling this bad about saying one damn thing to anyone else.

"S'fine, I just don't play twenty questions," Mickey mumbles out the words reluctantly and hates that a small smile from Ian makes the weight in his chest lighter.

"I'll keep that in mind," Ian tells him and looks out the window.

-

Ian's house is fucking huge, not as huge as some of the other houses on the block but definitely too large for just one person. He seriously hopes Ian has a roommate or live-in girlfriend ( _or boyfriend_ he thinks for a second before completely shutting down that train of thought).

Ian steps out of the house and locks the door; it's slightly refreshing to see he's just in jeans and a t-shirt. The refreshing thought is quickly replaced by annoyance as he sees Ian is also carrying a small suitcase. Mickey breathes deeply, as Ian opens the trunk and puts in his suitcase before sliding into the backseat.

"Hey Mickey, how's it going today?" Ian's got that same big grin on his face.

Mickey fixes him with a bored stare and forces himself to swallow any annoyance. Ian just laughs at the silence and nods as if he expected Mickey's reaction and thinks it's something like an inside joke between them.

It's not, Ian's just a dumbass.

"Alright, no questions, I get it." Ian leans back into the seat and lets out a long breath, "Off to the airport today."

Mickey knew Ian was going to the say the airport but he still kind of hates Ian for actually saying it. It might be unreasonable, but Mickey's never been very reasonable. He clicks his tongue and puts the car in drive, trying his best to mentally prepare himself for the chaos that is airport traffic. Honestly, it's probably hell on earth.

"Going to London," Ian mentions as he looks out the window. "We're trying to expand overseas and there's this great spot in London we've been looking at."

"Fascinating," Mickey mutters.

Ian nods and starts chuckling to himself, "We were going to wait on the overseas project a few more years and finally rebuild a hotel in New Orleans, but the guy we were dealing with kept saying he wasn't sure it would be successful. Eventually, my brother pried out of him that it was just because he didn't want to deal with a company run by a bunch of wild youths."

Mickey snorted loudly, "Sounds like a dick."

Mickey's eyes widen the second the words leave his mouth because, shit, that is not the kind of thing you are supposed to say to the loaded clients that his entire income is based on. He glances to the rear-view mirror, ready to whip out some bullshit apologize about his language, and sees Ian grinning and laughing.

"Fucking huge dick," Ian says and Mickey's mildly impressed. "It's alright though; a lot of people seem to think we're all going to completely screw up. Run the company into the ground or something, despite profits being at their all-time highest right now. I worry sometimes about it though, you never know."

Mickey shrugs and bites at his lip, "I don't know much about business but I'm pretty sure you Gallagher's could all just lay back and make bank without lifting a fucking' finger."  
  
Shit, his filter really has dissipated quickly. Ian doesn't seem to care though; he's looking at Mickey with a shy smile and nodding.  
  
"I guess I just want to make a difference in the company, leave my mark."

"So that's what the international expansion is about?" Mickey questions, quirking an eyebrow as Ian shrugs and nods. He looks nervous and somehow Mickey is a complete sucker for that. "You're smart and it's a good idea, stop freaking out Gallagher, you'll be fine."

Ian's got this strange soft look on his face as Mickey finishes speaking, like what Mickey said was miraculous or important. Mickey finds that he kind of likes Ian looking at him like that - even if he is an idiot.

-

At least half an hour passes of Mickey playing games on his phone; he only pauses to flip off people for getting mad at him for being parked in the pickup zone. As far as he's concerned they can all go fuck themselves because there is no way in hell he is finding a parking spot and going inside to walk Ian back to the car. No fucking way.

"Fuckin' stupid game," Mickey mutters as he loses at Solitaire for the eighth time in a row. The game is rigged, there's got to be some sort of statistical impossibility for someone to suck this badly at solitaire. He's officially fed up with the game and slips his phone in his pocket. He looks up and scans the newest crowd leaving the airport, and nearly sighs in relief when he sees Ian's bright ginger hair.

Fucking finally, took the rich dick long enough.

He's about to put the car in drive when he sees Ian suddenly veering away from where Mickey is parked. He squints and frowns as he sees Ian rushing over to a woman and her son trying to get in a taxi. He's saying something to the woman, she looks thankful and backs away as Ian lifts her luggage easily and sets it in the truck. He stands there for a few seconds longer, laughing and talking with the woman before looking to her son. He bends over and ruffles the kid’s hair, scrunching up his face and sticking out his tongue as the kid does the same to him.

Mickey tilts his head and gnaws on his lower lip. Ian looks content like that, helping out some strange woman and her kid, and then shooting the shit with them after like he's known them forever. It's weird, and so completely opposite from Mickey, but still slightly endearing.

Ian stands up and waves to the pair before jogging over to the car. He grins and waves when he sees Mickey, poping his luggage in the trunk before opening the door and sliding into the backseat.

"If it isn't the grumpiest chauffeur in the world!" Ian greets him, panting slightly but his grin doesn't falter. "How was your week, Mickey?"

Mickey turns his head and gives Ian the best glare he can muster, he's sure it comes off softer than intend though because Ian's grin is fucking addicting and Mickey can't help his lips from twitching up at the corners.

"I'm going to guess it was good," Ian finally states.

Mickey turns to look back out the window, shaking his head and biting at his lower lip again. "You're chipper," Mickey muses while putting the car into drive and shoulder checking. "You get the broads number?" He nods towards the taxi that is now pulling away just ahead of them.

Ian laughs and shakes his head, "Just being a good person, Mick."

Mickey scowls at the nickname and looks up to the rear-view mirror to see Ian staring back at him. He's no longer smiling, just staring into Mickey's eyes with an intensity that Mickey doesn't know how to handle.

"Besides, she's not really my type."

Oh. Mickey looks back at the road. He thought she was decently good looking; of course, his opinion is pretty objective so maybe there's something he doesn't get. Wait. Mickey glances back to the rear-view mirror and sees the way Ian is shamelessly watching him.  
  
 _Oh._

-

Ian's gay, which is great, or maybe not great. Mickey spends most of his time driving Ian around trying his best not to check him out, but more often than not is unable to stop himself from admiring his strong jawline, how his t-shirts will show off his biceps, or how fucking huge his thighs are and imagining all the power that could come from them. Christ, he can't go one drive without fantasizing about Ian dragging him into the back and fucking him until they’re both raw and spent.

Mickey's tried reminding himself that Ian's just some rich fuck and that it's stupid to even be thinking about something like that but then Ian has to go off and actually be such a genuine person. He's kind and generous, talks to Mickey about his fucking day and always asks Mickey about his. He's never had someone be genuinely interested in what he has to say, it's freaky and makes him uncomfortable, but not in a bad way.

He almost thinks that maybe he doesn't hate Ian Gallagher.  
  
Except, of course, when he gets a call to pick him up at four in the fucking morning.

Mickey's tired and grouchy so when Ian slides into his car with some belligerent asshole twink, Mickey has to talk himself out of committing violent acts. He takes a deep breath, counts to ten, and starts driving.

"Can you make the driver go faster?" The twink is whispering loudly to Ian as if Mickey can't fucking hear him. "He's really dawdling along, and he's not even wearing a suit."

Mickey breathes deeply; reminding himself that he needs this job and it's only a few more weeks before he's back to working at a desk.

"I don't think Mickey needs a suit," Ian answers, emphasizing Mickey's name.

The twink seems to ignore Ian's words, moving a hand to stroke up Ian's leg. "You look so sexy, especially when we were dancing," he's whispering loudly again, Mickey hates that he can hear it and tightens his grip on the steering wheel. "You could have had any guy in that bar, wouldn't even need to talk and they'd all just follow you home."

Mickey hates himself for looking back at them, can almost see a sort of resigned look in Ian's eyes as he fakes a smile. Mickey frowns as he watches Ian put on a show for the rest of the ride, he parks in front of Ian's house and the twink is out the second he's stopped.

"I'll be right there," Ian calls to him and looks away to smile at Mickey. Mickey feels a burst of warmth in his chest as he finally sees a real smile on Ian's lips. "Thanks for coming to get us."

Mickey nods quickly, his lips pressed together firmly as he tries his best to stay the fuck out of Ian's business but when he hears the fucking twink yelling for Ian to hurry up the words tumble out of his mouth without a thought.  
  
"You deserve better than that fucker."

Ian blinks, his eyes are turning to that wide, soft look that Mickey can't handle. "What?"

Mickey clenches his jaw and waves a hand in the direction of the twink. "It's just that guy is a fuckin' douche, and you're not. You're better than that asshole, you deserve better than him." Mickey quickly looks down at his hands, picking at a hangnail and pretending that he's not blushing.

"Who do I deserve then?" Ian's voice is quiet, almost shy, as he asks.

Mickey looks up, sees the way Ian is looking at him and knows exactly what Ian wants him to say. Fuck, Mickey wants to say it too, he even takes a second to imagine how perfect the rest of the day would play out, but he's not ready for that.

He's not even sure that he's the type of guy that could deserve Ian anyways.

"I don't know," Mickey finally answers.

He can see the flash of disappointment on Ian's face before it's replaced by a small understanding smile. He opens the car door again and slips out saying, "thanks Mickey, see you tomorrow."

He watches Ian walk inside his house with the twink and realizes he definitely doesn't hate Ian Gallagher, but he maybe hates himself right then.

-

"You may as well come in, it might take a while."

It's probably the last thing Mickey thought he would hear from Ian after their awkward conversation the night before. Mickey had been dreading getting the call that Ian needed to be picked up, he'd spent most of the night considering different ways that he could bullshit his way out of it and then spent the entire morning chain-smoking and nervously glancing at his cellphone.

All his nervousness seemed to be for nothing though as Ian got in his car and acted as though nothing was different. He greeted Mickey as he usually would before opening his briefcase and carding through the papers in there. That was when he had cursed told Mickey not to bother driving away; he'd forgotten a file in the house that needed to be finished up.

Then he invited Mickey to come inside.

Mickey fidgets in his seat and shrugs, "We're not supposed to go into client’s houses. Some shit about mutual safety or something."

Ian nods and purses his lips as if thinking deeply about the situation. "Well, I won't tell if you won't."

Mickey looks back to see Ian is now sporting a cheeky grin with those fucking impossible big hopeful eyes and he almost caves.

"I just don't want to leave you out here alone for a few hours. Come on, please, Mickey? I'll feel way less like a massive asshole."

Mickey looks up at Ian's house, he has to admit he is kind of curious to see what it's like inside. He turns the keys and pulls them out of the ignition, then opens the door and hears a small giddy noise from Ian. Mickey walks around the car and sees Ian already walking up the steps to his door.

Mickey's palms are sweaty; he rubs them on his jeans and hopes that Ian doesn't notice how immediately nervous he is over the prospect of stepping into Ian's house. He looks over at Ian and is suddenly struck by how much taller he is than Mickey. It's strange looking up at him and scanning the full length of his body up close, he looks bigger overall, his muscles more prominent and there are light freckles scattered across his skin he never noticed before.

Ian unlocks the door quickly and swings the door open, ushering Mickey in. The entrance is huge and very open with large arches leading three different ways and two sets of stairs; one going up and one going down. Ian stands facing Mickey and motions the arch behind him, "That is the kitchen, and to the left is my office, to the right is the living room. Upstairs is bedrooms, downstairs is supposed to be the entertainment area but there are just a bar and a pool table down there. You can go play pool if you want, or watch TV, or play video games or anything actually."

Mickey crosses his arms and leans back, watching as Ian waves his arms gesturing to each space in his house and talking a million miles per minute. Ian sees Mickey's raised eyebrows and stops quickly, he ducks his head smiling nervously and tapping his fingers on his legs. It's kind of adorable how flustered Ian is, Mickey laughs and walks towards the living room. It's oddly comforting that Ian's nerves are going as insane as Mickey’s; it calms him enough to pull himself together and act like a normal human being.

"You blind or something?" Mickey calls behind him as he slumps onto a large leather couch set up in front of a TV that is nearly the size of the wall.

Ian laughs, slipping his hands into his pockets and following Mickey, "Nah, I just like the theater feeling." He unbuttons his suit jacket and pulls it off, draping it over to the back of the couch and dropping beside Mickey on the couch. Mickey's eyes are glued to Ian's movements and he absently rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt, loosens the tie and unbuttons the top couple buttons.

Jesus Christ, Mickey feels like such a creep but Ian looks so ridiculously sexy and he doesn't know how to look away. He watches Ian's neck as his hands move, wonders what his skin might taste like and thinks about how easy it would be to lean over and run his tongue along Ian's throat.

"You have to admit it's pretty great."

Fuck. Mickey snaps his eyes away from Ian, scratching at his lower lip with the blunt nail of his thumb. Being close to Ian is only making all these fucking fantasies more vivid. He nods quickly, his mouth feels dry and he's not sure if he could get any words out properly.

Ian settles in, flipping channels until he finds some show on the Discovery Channel. It's about cheetah's racing people, and it's kind of ridiculous but Ian gets really into it. He's cursing at the TV and getting angry every time there is a race. He points out in each slow motion shot how the cheetah actually starts later than the people and the races aren't fair. Mickey laughs and teases him, tells him that he should become a lawyer for cheetah's running rights instead of running a hotel chain.

It's fun and easy, Mickey feels comfortable sitting next to Ian, nudging shoulders and taking bets on each race. He feels more at home than ever before and lets himself think for a second that maybe he's just been running around looking for Ian his whole life.

The hours fly by and it feels like seconds, Ian looks at his watch and groans loudly resting his head back against the couch.

"What?" Mickey grumbles, glancing over to see Ian's lip has dropped into a pout as he looks at Mickey.

"Missed my meeting."

"Fuck," Mickey comments dryly and wonders if this is his queue to leave. He doesn't want to leave this happy little bubble they've created, not yet at least.

Ian sits up and breathes in deeply before reaching for the remote and changing it to some deep-sea fishing show. "You're going to love this one," Ian's pout is gone, he's grinning widely at Mickey and leaning back again, their arms brushing against each other.

Mickey watches Ian for a moment longer and smiles.

-

Ian starts calling Mickey for rides for really fucking dumb things.

One day he gets a ride to the grocery store because he needs to buy some more pasta sauce, not that he's having pasta that night but he might the next so it's best to be prepared. The next day he gets a ride to the post office even though there's a mailbox a five-minute walk away, but Ian likes to go directly to the post office because it's more secure. The trend continues day after day, Mickey spends full days just carting around Ian from one place to another, never stopping anywhere for longer than a half-hour until Mickey drops him off at home for the night.

Then Ian will stare at him, sitting for a long quiet moment like there are words on the tip of his tongue that he just can't get out because he never ends up saying anything. He always waves awkwardly, sliding out of the car and making his way up to his house.

Mickey's pretty sure Ian wants to invite him back into his house. He's pretty sure all of these meaningless drives - filled with conversation and questions that Mickey would normally never answer - mean something more. Mickey saw it the night he picked Ian up from the club, and he can see it now in every lingering look before Ian goes back into his house.

If Mickey's being honest, it's kind of adorable.

"You should just go to this meeting for me," Ian says with a toothy grin.

Mickey snorts and shakes his head. They're walking on the boardwalk, wasting time before Ian's first meeting of the day he needs to go to. Ian had called him earlier in the morning, asking for a ride to Annie's Diner explaining that it's the best breakfast place in Chicago and he needs an amazing breakfast to prepare for the day. Of course, once they got there Ian had convinced Mickey to come in and eat as well because he would just need a ride again in an hour or so, so Mickey might as well let Ian buy him breakfast.

It was a weak excuse but Mickey is a sucker for pancakes (and maybe he is a sucker for Ian too).

"Fuck no; you can deal with that corporate bullshit yourself."

Ian laughs, "I figured you would say that."  
  
Ian glances around quickly before he leans over and nudges Mickey roughly, jogging ahead slightly to avoid retaliation. Mickey narrows his eyes at Ian, glaring playfully as he sees a goofy grin blooming on Ian's lips.

"Don't make me kick your ass Gallagher," Mickey calls out pointing at Ian.

Ian shrugs, "You'll have to catch me first." And then he turns breaking into a full out run and looking younger than ever. Mickey tries to bite back a grin and fails before taking off after Ian.

Mickey doesn't know how long they run for; taking turns catching up to the other, delivering soft shoves and laughing loudly. It's like a kind of messed up version of tag, and it's so fucking juvenile, but Mickey loves it. They run down the boardwalk and move into a park, never slowing down or stopping for anyone. He feels free, just running around and playing a silly game with Ian.

Mickey catches up to Ian again, this time pushing him up against a tree. Their chests are touching, both of them breathing heavily and Mickey is gripping Ian's arms tightly. Mickey can feel Ian's breath tickling his nose, he looks up and it occurs to Mickey how close together they are.

Ian's pupils are blown wide; his eyes keep shifting between Mickey's eyes and his lips. Fuck, Mickey feels a burning need in his gut, there's less than an inch he needs to make up. Ian's lips look soft and pink; they're parted slightly like an invitation for another pair to be slotted there. He didn't even realize he wanted to kiss Ian until this moment, but oh fuck, he wants it.

Ian's alarm ringtone goes off, he needs to get to the meeting now and they’re already so much further away from the car than they meant to be, but neither of them moves.

"You need to get to your meeting,"

"I know."

Mickey breathes in and steps back, releasing his tight hold on Ian's arm and running a hand over his face and through his hair. He looks back at Ian and sees that he hasn't moved yet, his eyes are still glued to Mickey taking in his every movement as Ian breathes in and out. He's making it so tempting to go back over there.

"C'mon, you're gonna be late." Mickey shoves his hands in his pockets and starts walking, not bothering to see if Ian is following.

-

_ "Guess who doesn't have to go out driving tomorrow?" _

Mickey resists groaning as he hears his bosses chipper voice ringing through his phone. He stays quiet and grunts, hoping to convey that he's not playing along with Lisa's stupid game.

_ "You!" _ She calls out, making Mickey cringe once again. Her voice is too fucking high pitched and happy for ten o'clock at night.

_ "We found a replacement for Rick finally, so no more working on weekends and we will see you on Monday in the office." _ Lisa continues speaking; she's the kind of person who doesn't give a shit if she's the only one talking in a conversation. It annoys Mickey to some extent, but at the same time, it's nice to never have to say a damn thing. _"Does that sound good Mickey?"_

Mickey is about to say yes, because fuck yes it's been long enough, but then he thinks about Ian. He thinks about his stupid ginger hair and big grin, the way he laughs, his sheepish explanations, and how he never fails to make Mickey smile. Fuck, Ian Gallagher is just so fucking great and Mickey pauses to think about never getting to spend time with him anymore.

Because that's what this essentially means, that Mickey loses Ian.

But it's his job, he needs it, he asked for it, and he can't say no to this.

"Yeah, see you Monday."

-

Mickey hasn't had a Saturday off in nearly a month, so it's actually kind of nice to not have anywhere to be. He wakes up late, gets himself a bowl of Lucky Charms and sits in front of the TV. There are some old cartoons on, he laughs loudly at all the stupid jokes and tries to ignore the tightness in his chest reminding him that someone else is driving Ian around right now.  
  
Lucky fucking bastard probably has no idea how lucky he is either.

There's a series of loud knocks on Mickey's door and curses lowly, turning up the volume on the TV and trying to ignore it. The knocking continues, getting louder and more insistent until Mickey finally gets up and stomps to the door.

"What the fuck do you-" His words are cut short as he swings the door open and sees Ian standing on the other side.

Ian's hand is raised and he's leaning against the door frame, Mickey instantly feels bad for not answering earlier. Ian stands up straight and raises a hand to wave awkwardly, "Um, hey."

"Hey."

Ian shifting his weight back and forth on his legs, open and closing his mouth as a slight blush creeps up his neck. "So, you were - or, uh, they got a -" he stumbles through what he's going to say before finally settling on, "there's a replacement."

Mickey bites his lip and nods, he's still a little shocked to see that Ian is at his door and he's honestly a little embarrassed because his apartment is a mess and the pair of sweatpants he's wearing is covered in stains, at least his shirt is sort of clean.

"Yeah, they found someone to take over Rick's old job, so I'm back in the office," Mickey explains, scratching at his forehead and trying to remain cool.

Ian nods and swallows, "Oh, so this is permanent."

"'Fraid so."

Ian turns around and for one horrible second, Mickey thinks he's going to walk away and leave it like that. Mickey is about to call out to him when Ian turns around, walking back to Mickey with a new determination.

"It's just that I don't want that. Not you having a good job, or a better job, but I just don't want to not see you. I want to keep seeing you, every single fucking day, and talking with you because talking to you isn't like talking to anyone else. Being around you isn't like being around anyone else and I don't want to not have that."

Ian's staring at him, nervous and fidgeting like he would be when Mickey dropped him off at home each night. His voice is shakier when he speaks again, "Is that okay? Because if it's not okay I can just go and I'll never bug you again, maybe this is totally out of line, I have no idea what I'm doing right n"-

Ian's words are cut short as Mickey grabs fistfuls Ian's suit jacket and drags him down into a firm kiss. It's short but perfect, and when Mickey pulls back Ian has this dopey look on his face that makes Mickey want to kiss him all over again.

"You busy today?" Mickey asks, letting go of Ian's jacket and stepping back.

Ian shakes his head, "No."

"Want to come in?"

"Fuck yes."

Ian moves forward quickly, wrapping his arms around Mickey and pulling him close as their lips move against each other in a slow rhythm.

Suddenly Mickey is very thankful that Rick Johnson is a fucking idiot.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr @ [meganwwrites](http://meganwwrites.tumblr.com)


End file.
